


Body Memory

by Leni



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Childhood, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 02:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, Winry's hand was too small to wield a wrench.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [FMA Fic Contest](http://fma_fic_contest.livejournal.com/info)

Long before Winry had discovered the effectiveness of a well-aimed wrench, there'd been The Poke.

Ed scowled at Granny - poke.

Ed threatened a younger kid - poke-poke.

Ed used a new bit of foul language - poke!

Ed peeked at her test paper - the poke waited until recess.

It always dug between his sixth and seventh rib - Alphonse had counted one night, curious about the small round bruise. Ed never told him that'd been the day Winry gave up on serving him milk.

 

Now Ed stood in Mustang's office, bristling at the careless dismissal. A dozen epithets crossed his mind, and when he muttered the one he'd been saving for weeks, his left hand flew to his side, as if to soothe a phantom hurt.

Hawkeye noticed. "Everything alright, Edward?"

Mustang lowered his newspaper, curious.

Ed snapped his hand back. "Yes, ma'am." Damn it. He hadn't meant to do that. Past and present shouldn't mix. Not here. Not yet. Childhood memories had no place before that pompous Fire Alchemist.

_Fuck_.

Outside, the phone booth caught his attention.

If he got through, he'd blurt out the whole story. He'd blame her for intruding in an important meeting and yell that she should stay in Resembool, where she belonged.

If they ever met again, Winry would brain him at first sight.

Ed wrapped his arms around himself as he sped past the booth. _What's the point?_ If his fingers rubbed that tiny spot between his sixth and seventh rib, he pretended not to notice.

 

The End  
19/11/09


End file.
